Disabled
by la12la3
Summary: Dr. John Watson always knew there was no such thing as a "high-functioning sociopath," but he also knew that there was nothing average about his best friend, Sherlock Holmes. Sadly, I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any of the lovely characters at 221b Baker's Street.
1. Goldfish (1)

It had been a particularly boring day in 221b Baker's Street, so John decided to try and convince Sherlock to go out for dinner. Sherlock had been pensive about going out ever since the media had started sending reporters to their doorstep; it had only been a week since the great Reichenbach case. Nevertheless, John figured that leaving the flat might help alleviate some of the detective's boredom and possibly spare the wall more bullet holes.

"Sherlock?" John asked the man sitting in the chair opposite to him.

"Hm," Sherlock gave a noise of question, not even putting down his paper.

John sighed and continued, "Do you want to go out tonight? Go grab a bite to eat and get out of the flat for a little while?"

At first, Sherlock gave no sign of having heard John, however, he slowly set down his paper and stared at the doctor and debated leaving the flat. After a few minutes of pondering, Sherlock replied, "Okay."

John was taken aback, as Sherlock rarely agreed to go out for dinner. However, John immediately composed himself and said, "Ok, brilliant. Let's be off then."

Both men got up and John went to put on his jacket as Sherlock readied his ever present coat and scarf.

"Alright, now the cab is waiting down stairs. Remember, look ahead, ignore the press and they will go away quickly enough." John advised Sherlock.

Sherlock gave no notion of having heard him. Sherlock then turned and went downstairs, leaving John to hurry behind as he got out his keys to close the flat.

"Ready?" John asked at the bottom of the staircase.

Sherlock gave a small nod of approval and flipped up his coat flaps.

John proceeded to open the door and begin to battle through the chaos that was the sidewalk.

Interviewers held out their microphones and shouted questions at the two men.

They had almost made it to the car when one woman shouted at Sherlock, "Is it true that you have a disability?"  
Sherlock noticeably paused and his back stiffened, but as soon as he had, he relaxed and got into the cab as if nothing had happened.

To the normal person's eye, it probably hadn't even registered that he had responded in any way at all. However, John Watson was no average person when it came to Sherlock Holmes.


	2. Goldfish (2)

Sherlock was silent throughout the cab ride. John had started to try and ask him if he was alright many times, but had decided to wait until they got to the restaurant.

When they pulled up to the curb, Sherlock got out without a word and left John to pay the fare. It wasn't until they were seated in their favorite window spot that John got up the courage to talk,

"So you've been pretty silent, you okay?" John asked tentatively.

"Fine." Sherlock answered abruptly looking down at his menu, which John knew was all for show since Sherlock ordered the same thing every time.

John was trying to think of another way to pose the question when Sherlock suddenly set down his menu and looked John in the eye and asked, "Do you consider me disabled?"

John was taken aback and said, "Of course not, Sherlock. You're the most brilliant man I've ever met. And why would you ever be considered "disabled"?"

Sherlock leaned back and seemed to be taking in John's answer when the waiter came up and took their orders. After the waiter had gone, Sherlock answered John's question with one of his own, "Have you ever heard of Asperger's Syndrome?"

_Oh. _John thought as a million pieces clicked together in his mind. That would explain why Sherlock had such trouble understanding sarcasm, people's emotions, and why he detested loud crowds of people. "Yes, I've heard of it. I assume this is your way of telling me you have it?" John asked pensively.

Sherlock clenched his jaw and refused to meet John's eye.

"It's okay, Sherlock. I know you're not disabled, you are an extremely capable genius of a man, Asperger's or not. It's not something for you to be ashamed of." John continued.

As soon as he said this, John started to think about the millions of times that Anderson and Donovan had called Sherlock a "freak" or "weirdo." It made John sick to think about what these names did to Sherlock.

Sherlock remained quiet and refused to answer or even look at John for the rest of dinner.

It was going to be a long night.


	3. Goldfish (3)

Sherlock had gone straight to his room when they had gotten back to the flat. John was sitting in his usual chair, pondering a cup of tea, when he heard the first bang from Sherlock's room.

"Fantastic," John muttered as he slipped his phone out of his pants to send a text to Mycroft.

**Danger night, reporter asked Sherlock if he was "disabled".**

**-JW**

It took less than a minute for Mycroft to respond, which was impressive even for him.

**On way. Stay with him.**

**-MH**

John's brow furrowed as he re-read the text. Mycroft never came, even for danger nights. Sure, Mycroft would send help if needed and tell John what to say, but he had never arrived in person. John was busy worrying when he was startled by another loud crash in Sherlock's room. Quickly, John got up and walked the short distance to the detective's door.

"Sherlock?" John asked as he softly knocked on the door, "You ok in there?"

There was no reply, but John heard the bed squeak as someone, presumably Sherlock, threw themselves down on the mattress.

_At least he's not destroying things anymore. _John thought grimly.

"I'm coming in," John warned as he pushed the door open.

What John saw on the other side of the door surprised him more than he thought possible. Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, was lying on his bed with tears streaming down his face.

There was a book on the floor, apparently flung across the room, and a broken clock on the other side of Sherlock's bed.

As soon as John walked in, Sherlock threw an arm over his face in a vain attempt to hide the obvious tears. Sherlock hated crying, it always felt like a betrayal from his transport. He hated emotions and couldn't stand actually _experiencing _them.

"Sherlock?" John asked in a worried tone as he maneuvered his way into a sitting position at the edge of Sherlock's bed.

Sherlock gave no sign that he heard him.

John was about to ask again, when footsteps in the flat stopped him. Mycroft had arrived.

It didn't take long for Mycroft to find them in Sherlock's bedroom. Mycroft paused at the door way and looked at his brother.

"Sherlock," the older Holmes stated factually.

Sherlock's body tensed and he swung his legs to the opposite side of the bed, facing away from Mycroft, as he tried to wipe the tears from his face. It was one thing to cry, another for John to see it, and a whole other level for Mycroft to see it. It was unacceptable.

"Mycroft," Sherlock replied, trying to smother any emotion in his still-raw voice.

Mycroft sighed and John looked between both of the Holmes brothers, trying to decide if he should leave them alone.

"You're fine where you are John, as much as he would hate to admit it, you seem to have a calming effect on my brother," Mycroft said, as if reading John's mind.

As far as John was concerned, Mycroft may very well be able to read minds. John was still trying to process this compliment when Mycroft continued,

"Sherlock, I thought we've been over this already."  
Sherlock grunted in response and Mycroft took this as a sign to keep forging on.

"Disabled is a word that _average _people use to describe things that their small minds cannot comprehend. It is not a word to be used by or even thought about by men of our stature and intelligence," Mycroft said as he continued to stand in the doorway.

John was surprised by Mycroft's kind words and Sherlock sighed in response as he ran his hands over his face.

It only took a minute for Sherlock to stand and face his brother. Sherlock's eyes were still red, but his face was composed and set back to its usual stoic expression.

"We are living in a world full of goldfish, Mycroft," Sherlock said.

And as John looked on, he caught the smallest whisper of a smile cross Mycroft's face.

"Yes we are dear brother. Tea?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock nodded in response and they both left the room without another word, leaving John to contemplate what he had just seen. Mycroft had known exactly what to say, while John had fumbled for words. This topic had apparently come up before.

John smiled to himself as he stood up to join the two Holmes brothers_. At least they have each other_, John thought kindly.

**Hello everyone! Please take a second to leave a little review if you get a chance :) I love hearing from you! Also, let me know if you want this story to keep going (having other characters find out about Sherlock's Asperger's), if so I will try my best to update every Friday. Have a great week! **


	4. The Lab

A few days after his confession, Sherlock was in the lab running some blood smears found at a new crime scene. John had been busy getting groceries and had passed on watching Sherlock stare at a microscope for hours, so Sherlock was on his own. Except for Molly, Sherlock always counted Molly.

The morning had been running smoothly. Neither Sherlock nor Molly had said a word other than an occasional mutter of excitement from Sherlock whenever he found a clue.

Around noon, Sherlock heard multiple footsteps clamoring down the hallway towards the lab. He looked up from his microscope in confusion; people rarely came to the lab and never more than one at a time. Sherlock quickly glanced at Molly to confirm that she had heard them too, she looked at him with an odd expression and shrugged, clearly as confused as he was.

Chaos broke out in a matter of seconds.

One minute Sherlock was looking at Molly, the next, he was overwhelmed as reporters swarmed outside the glass door to the lab. Thankfully, they didn't have the key to get in, however, that didn't stop them from shouting questions through the glass wall and flashing pictures.

Sherlock was unprepared for so many people, voices, and flashing lights. He could usually keep calm when he had to walk through the reporters, but that was when he had time to mentally prepare himself and escape into his mind palace. This time, it was too late to escape.

Sherlock barely registered as Molly yanked the phone from the wall and started yelling at security for their negligence.

Molly didn't even notice that Sherlock had already sunk down to the ground and was now curled up against the side of the lab table, facing opposite the door.

Molly hung up the phone and was turning to apologize to Sherlock, when she saw him. His hands were in his hair and he was slowly rocking back and forth.

Molly immediately went to crouch by him and asked with concern, "Sherlock?"

He didn't answer, just continued to rock slowly and take deep haggard breaths.

"Sherlock, can you talk to me? What can I do to help?" Molly offered.

Sherlock glanced up slightly and muttered, "John," before returning his head to his hands.

"John, right," Molly muttered as she quickly went over to the phone to dial his number.

By this time, security was already outside, breaking up the reporters and securing the lab. However, the damage had already been done.

John answered on the third ring, "Molly?"  
"It's Sherlock," Molly replied

"What's happened? Is he alright?" John asked, worried.

"He.. I don't know. We had a security breach and some reporters got in, I thought he was fine, but then he curled up on the floor and he is just rocking. I asked him if I could help and he just said your name," Molly replied sounding flustered.

"I'll be there in five minutes, just stay with him," John said as he hung up.

_What is going on? _Molly thought vaguely.

For five tense minutes, Molly sat next to Sherlock. Not touching him, not saying anything, just being there for him.

"Sherlock?" John shouted as he came into the lab.

"Over here!" Molly replied, standing up to motion John over.

John quickly walked to where Molly was and found Sherlock in the same state. He sighed as he looked down at his friend.

"Sherlock?" John asked gently as he crouched in front of his friend.

Sherlock stopped rocking for a second and whispered, "John?"

John scooted over and leaned his back against the lab table and wrapped his arm around Sherlock.  
"I'm right here, Sherlock."

Molly watched in wonder as Sherlock slowly stopped rocking and started taking deep breaths.

"There you go Sherlock, in five seconds, out five seconds. Good, good," John slowly coaxed Sherlock into breathing more normally.

"It was too much," Sherlock muttered as he rubbed his face with his hands. He looked miserable.

"I know, but they're gone now," John said reassuringly as Sherlock let out a long breath and slowly looked up at Molly.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Sherlock muttered.

Molly was taken aback, "Why are you sorry? It was obviously not in your control, you couldn't help it."

Sherlock seemed to take in her answer as John slowly helped him stand to his feet.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened?" Molly asked curiously.

Sherlock bit his lip and seemed to have trouble explaining, John, seeing this, immediately stepped up to aid his best friend.

"Sherlock experienced a sensory overload that he wasn't prepared for. That's the cause of the attack and stimming."

_A sensory overload? I thought that only happened to people with… oh. _Molly thought.

"So Sherlock, do you have.. Asperger's?" Molly asked hesitantly, not wanting to upset him, as he should have nothing to be ashamed about.

Sherlock clenched his jaw as he answered, "Yes, but it does _not _affect my work. That was a one-time situation that I wasn't prepared for, it won't happen again."  
"Sherlock, it's okay. Just because you have Asperger's doesn't mean that I'm going to treat you any differently. It's nothing to be ashamed about," Molly added sincerely, "Is there anything that I could do in the future to help you if you have another attack?"

Sherlock was Sherlock, Asperger's or not. Having the syndrome wasn't going to change him in Molly's mind and anyone that thought otherwise would have to deal with her first.

Sherlock seemed to consider this before replying, "I have a weighted blanket that I could store at the lab. If I have an attack here again, you could put it on my shoulders; that tends to help."

"Alright then, coffee?" Molly asked as she changed the subject before Sherlock felt embarrassed with all the attention.

Sherlock smiled gratefully and replied, "Black, two sugars."

Sherlock's Asperger's was never discussed again. Whenever he had an attack at the lab, which was very rare, Molly would silently slip the weighted blanket over his shoulders and sit next to him till it was over. Then they would get up and go on with their days, no words were necessary.

**Hello everyone! The amount of support I have been getting is overwhelming, thank you all so much! Also, to those of you talking about your own Asperger's or family/friends with the syndrome, I'm honored to have you enjoy my work. A main reason that I was so drawn to portray Sherlock's Asperger's in a positive light(as it should be seen in anyone) is the fact that I have multiple family members with similar diagnoses (turrets and autism) and hate it when people see it as a negative aspect. It makes them the awesome people they are, not hinder who they "could" be. I'm planning on having another chapter up next Friday, so check back then! Please review, I love to hear from you all! :) Have an awesome week!**


	5. The Meltdown

Sherlock had been repeating the same experiment for over an hour and it still kept failing, even though it should have logically worked instantly. Sherlock was beyond frustration when Lestrade had banged on the door to the flat.

"I suppose I'll get it," John stated as he got up from his chair to open the door.

As soon as the door was unlocked, Lestrade burst in and immediately asked,

"Where's Sherlock?"

John was confused by the inspectors raised voice, but motioned towards the kitchen.

"Sherlock! I have been waiting for you at the crime scene for over two hours! Why didn't you bloody show up?" Lestrade asked in agitation.

Sherlock tensed at the added frustration in the room.

"Experiment," Sherlock muttered in response, not having looked up since Lestrade had arrived.

Meanwhile John had made his way into the kitchen to watch the ordeal play out. He immediately noticed Sherlock's shoulders tense and his cheeks flushed. _Crap, _John thought as he tried to think of a way to calm the situation down.

"Experiment? What about the dead body that has been waiting for you by the river? You could have at least called so I didn't look like an idiot telling the crew to wait because you were coming," Lestrade puffed angrily and shook his head in disbelief, "I mean, _come on_, since when do you miss a crime scene?"

All the while, Sherlock breaths had continued to quicken, yet, he still refuse to talk to Lestrade.

"Sherlock? Are you even listening to me?" Lestrade shouted in anger.

John chose this time to step in, seeing that Sherlock was in clear distress at the situation.

"Sherlock? You okay?" John asked, concerned.

Lestrade turned to John looking equally confused as he was annoyed.

"Of course he's okay, just a lazy git today," Lestrade said defensively.

"Stop!" Sherlck bellowed, causing both Lestrade and John to jump at his sudden outburst.

Sherlock stood and began to pace frantically as he ran his hand's through his hair, breathing heavily.

"Now you've done it," John muttered as he went over to the distressed Sherlock.

John knew it wasn't fair to blame Lestrade, but he hated seeing Sherlock so upset.

"What?" Lestrade asked as he watched Sherlock pace and John go over to his friend in concern.

"Sherlock, breathe. Everything is okay," John said gently as stood next to Sherlock.  
Sherlock continued to pace, but seemed to be trying to breathe deeper at John's direction.

"The experiment," Sherlock muttered in exasperation, "but it's _logical."_

John finally realized that internal frustration was the cause of this meltdown. Sherlock had been working at the experiment for over an hour without his desired effect and then Lestrade's anger had pushed him over the edge.

"I know Sherlock, it doesn't make sense why your experiment didn't work. Maybe if we get some fresher milk?" John suggested, trying to calm his friends panic.

He knew Sherlock hated his meltdowns; he hated not being in control of his own body.

"Lestrade, there is a weighted blanket in the bathroom closet, please get it for me," John whispered to Lestrade.

Lestrade looked confused, but nodded his head and hurried to retrieve the blanket.

When Lestrade came back, he took in the most unusual sight. Sherlock was on the ground breathing in tandem with John as John held Sherlock's fingers to his own wrist.

"There you go, mimic my heartbeat," John said reassuringly, then turned to Lestrade and said, "Put the blanket over his shoulders, then take a step back, the less people the better."

Lestrade did as he was told and placed the blanked over the shaking man's shoulders.

It was a few minutes before Sherlock had calmed down enough to look ashamed of his meltdown.

"We've talked about this, Sherlock. It's not something you can control, not your fault," John said gently, seeing the shame on his best friend's face.

Sherlock nodded stiffly.

John turned to Lestrade to explain, "Sherlock has Asperger's. The combined stress of a failed experiment, your anger, and what I expect is at least two days without sleep caused a meltdown. Sherlock can't control these and therefore they are not his fault," John said with a protective glare, warning Lestrade not to say anything to refute this claim.

Lestrade was shocked by the news, but it overall made sense and he quickly recovered to say, "No it's not his fault at all, why would it be? Now, Sherlock, do you want to come to the morgue tomorrow to exam the body?"

John gave Lestrade a look of approval at his reaction and then redirected his attention back to Sherlock.

Sherlock cleared his throat before answering, "Tomorrow will work."

"Perfect, shall I order Chinese?" Lestrade said with a grin. Lestrade always ordered Chinese if he had to stay late at Baker's Street for a case.

"Egg rolls sound marvelous," Sherlock said as he got up and brushed off his pants.

The rest of the evening was made up of food and Cluedo, with Sherlock complaining loudly over the "mundane" murder options. Everything was back to normal.

**0000000000000000000000000000000000**

**I hope you all enjoyed Lestrade's reaction :) I feel like, out of all the characters, Lestrade would be the quickest to recover. This is mainly because Lestrade has seen Sherlock do crazy things(drugs, exc) that having a meltdown wouldn't faze him. I also had to look up Asperger's meltdowns to make sure I gave the right symptoms.**

**Again, I'd like to thank all of you for your consistent and amazing support! To the reviewers with Asperger's(or related syndromes): thank you so much for your kind reviews and I'm so sorry for all the terrible reactions you have had to go through (for those of you that have ignorant bullies at your school). I hope you know that you are anything BUT "disabled", you are marvelous and talented and going places in life, never let anyone tell you otherwise. Asperger's is not a curse, it is simply who you are and you should never change who you are. I hope these reactions for Sherlock feel genuine and real.**

**Have a great week and I will see you next Friday!**


	6. The Meltdown (Take two)

**Last week, I got a brilliant suggestion from **Andrewthegreat1: **"Maybe we could get a chapter from Sherlock's perspective?"**

**Well, needless to say, I thought this was a wonderful idea. So here you are! I took the Meltdown chapter from last week and tweaked it so that it came from Sherlock's perspective, so if you haven't read the last chapter, I recommend doing so sometime before or after this one so that you can get a full sense of what took place in this scene. Hope you enjoy and I'll see you next Friday :) Have a great week!**

_Why isn't it working? _Sherlock thought in frustration.

He had been repeating the same experiment for over an hour and it still kept failing, even though it should have logically worked instantly. Sherlock was beyond frustration when Lestrade had banged on the door to the flat.

He heard John mutter something unintelligent and, before he knew it, the flat was bombarded noise.

_So much noise._

Then both Lestrade and John entered the kitchen.

_The experiment should have worked by now. I've missed a crime scene. The experiment, it doesn't make sense. _

Sherlock tensed up as he heard Lestrade address him in agitation.

Hoping to make the noise stop, Sherlock muttered, "Experiment."

Couldn't they see that he was busy? Why was he being interrupted?

_Loud. Too many people, so many voices. Too much to process. Why is logic failing? Now the crime scene is gone. Anderson. Ruined._

Sherlock's thoughts began to run together in a constant stream, a terrible train wreck in his beautiful mind.

Sherlock had, unconsciously, begun to breathe heavily. He was losing control. His precious mind palace was becoming a rotten prison. He couldn't escape.

Then John said something, Sherlock didn't hear what though, all he knew was that John took a step closer. _Too close, suffocating can't breathe._

Then Lestrade spoke angrily at John and Sherlock lost it.

_System overriding. _

Everything was coming at once, Sherlock was sure he was going to explode. He couldn't take any more stimuli and shouted,

"Stop!"

The voices stopped, but it still wasn't enough to calm the hurricane swirling in his brain.

_Start stimming, _Sherlock made himself think logically and began to pace up and down the kitchen, unknowingly clawing at his hair, trying to make his thoughts slow down. It was so hard though, like trying to talk to someone speeding by on a train. He couldn't get the words to breach the ever growing avalanche in his mind. Swirling and swirling, never stopping. _It never stops._

Then it was if someone had gotten off the train, someone was standing next to him, grounding him, if only just a bit. John.

"Sherlock, breathe. Everything is okay," John said gently as stood next to Sherlock.  
_Breathe, yes that's logical, _Sherlock thought and gave a conscious effort to calm his rapid oxygen intake.

It helped, allowing Sherlock just enough room in his thoughts to get out a few unintelligible words.

"The experiment," Sherlock muttered in exasperation, "but it's _logical."_

"I know Sherlock, it doesn't make sense why your experiment didn't work. Maybe if we get some fresher milk?" John suggested.

_The milk! It was past its expiration date. Stupid, Sherlock. _

Sherlock savored this piece of logic, something that he could understand. To Sherlock's great relief, his mind began to slowly come to a stop, but the damage to his mind palace would take a few minutes to repair.

He was aware that John had stepped away for a moment, but, before he could panic, John was back at his side again.

The next thing Sherlock knew, John had grabbed his hand and placed it on his wrist, right above his pulse.

"There you go, mimic my heartbeat," John said reassuringly, then turned to Lestrade and said, "Put the blanket over his shoulders, then take a step back, the less people the better."

Sherlock took in deep breaths and began calculations in his mind as to how long to breathe to match John's rhythm.

Sherlock shoulders sagged in relief as the weighted blanket finally pushed him fully back onto Earth, out of his tortuous mind.

After repairing the damage to his mind palace, Sherlock finally glanced up and assessed the situation.

John had seen the meltdown, but John knew, so Sherlock wasn't worried. Lestrade on the other hand, this was his first non-detox related break down.

_Brilliant, now not only has my mind AND transport failed me, but Lestrade had to see it. Just brilliant,_ Sherlock thought as he looked down in shame and embarrassment.

"We've talked about this, Sherlock. It's not something you can control, not your fault," John said gently.

Sherlock nodded stiffly.

Sherlock was trying to think of what to tell Lestrade when John beat him to it.

John turned to Lestrade to explain, "Sherlock has Asperger's. The combined stress of a failed experiment, your anger, and what I expect is at least two days without sleep caused a meltdown. Sherlock can't control these and therefore they are not his fault," John said.

Sherlock could practically feel the glare that John was giving Lestrade, the warning.

"No it's not his fault at all, why would it be? Now, Sherlock, do you want to come to the morgue tomorrow to exam the body?" Lestrade asked, dismissing the scene he had just witnessed.

Sherlock was shocked and looked up to deduce what Lestrade was thinking, what judgments lie under his words. Sherlock was even more shocked to find none; Lestrade wasn't looking at Sherlock like he was different or even worse, a _freak._

Realizing that he was staring, Sherlock cleared his throat and answered, "Tomorrow will work."

"Perfect, shall I order Chinese?" Lestrade said with a grin. Lestrade always ordered Chinese if he had to stay late at Baker's Street for a case.

"Egg rolls sound marvelous," Sherlock said as he got up and brushed off his pants.

The rest of the evening was made up of Chinese food and a terribly monotonous game of Cluedo(why John and Lestrade wouldn't let him make it interesting was beyond him). Overall, it was a wonderfully ordinary evening.

0**0000000000000000000000**

**I know I already had an author's note in the beginning, but I just wanted to thank you for reading, I seriously appreciate the support! And if you have a second to write a review, I'd love to hear what you thought! See you next Friday!**


	7. The Suspect

Sherlock and John were standing with Lestrade behind the one-way glass at the Yard, watching Donovan interview the latest murder suspect. The interview hadn't even started yet when Sherlock asked,

"Have you checked through the suspect's medical record?"

Lestrade looked confused but answered, "No, why?"

"Hm, we will see," Sherlock replied vaguely.

Lestrade just rolled his eyes and watched as Donovan began to talk to the man.

"Hello Mr. Griffin, my name is Sergeant Donovan. Do you know why you're here?" Sally started.

The man continued to stare down at his lap and flap his hands, open and close, discreetly.

"Mr. Griffin? I need you to answer a few questions, okay?" Sally asked with growing impatience.

The suspect barely glanced up and replied through short breaths, "Okay."

Sally nodded in satisfaction and asked, "What was your relationship to Carla Hill?"

The suspect continued to quietly flap his hands and his breath quickened.

Sherlock grunted when he noticed this, drawing the attention of both John and Lestrade.

"What? What do you see?" John asked.

"He is not our murderer," Sherlock replied factually.

"What? How do you know? He looks awfully nervous to me," Lestrade asked.

"Oh he is, just not for the reasons you suspect. I would end the interview now and let Mr. Griffin go, he is in no shape to be questioned for unnecessary reasons," Sherlock said but was stopped as Donovan's raised voice brought everyone's attention back to the interview.

"Sir? You need to answer my questions," Donovan said in a raised voice.

Mr. Griffin was shaking at this point and was barely coherent as he muttered, "Please stop."

"Stop? Sir, you need to answer questions before we can end the interview. If you'd cooperate, this would be a lot less painful," Donovan said as she leaned back in her chair, smug.  
Sally assumed that he was getting nervous because he was the murderer.

Across the glass, Sherlock abruptly turned to Lestrade and said, "This needs to end, _now."_

"Sherlock? What's the matter?" John asked, sensing Sherlock's frustration.

Sherlock looked like he was about to answer when Lestrade cut him off,

"Alright, just give Sally a second to wrap up," Lestrade said, waving off Sherlock's concern.

However, Sally was nowhere close to ending her questioning.

"Sir!" Sally burst as she slapped the table, trying to break the so-called murderer, "You need to answer my questions, now."  
Mr. Griffin started breathing very hard, causing everyone else to finally realize that he was in real distress.

Lestrade was about to go intervene when he saw the interview door being opened and Sherlock charging in.

"For God's sake," Lestrade muttered as he went to pull Sherlock out of the room.

Once in the room, Lestrade stopped dead as he saw Sherlock kneeling next to the suspect's chair.

"Get out of here, Freak! This is unacceptable!" Sally was standing over the table and yelling at Sherlock.

"Sally, stop," Lestrade commanded and she quieted down as they all watched to see what Sherlock was doing.

Sherlock gently took off his coat and, to everyone's shock, draped it around the suspect's shoulders.

"Mr. Griffin, can you look at me for a second?" Sherlock asked gently as Donovan gaped.

Mr. Griffin slowly turned to face Sherlock; he was still shaking and breathing heavily, flapping his hands.

"Brilliant, now I know that you are very overwhelmed right now, for good reasons. I just need you to try and slow your breathing first, that's it, in and out for five seconds each," Sherlock said as he coaxed the suspect to slow his breathing.

Meanwhile, John was slowly figuring out the situation and looking on proudly as Sherlock calmed the man.

Once Mr. Griffin was breathing regularly and had stopped trembling, his hands slowly stopped flapping.

He took one more shuddering breath before looking up at Sherlock and saying, "Thank you, sir. I'm sorry, that doesn't usually happen in public, not for years."

Sherlock nodded in understanding, "It happens to the best of us."

Mr. Griffin's eyes widened a small amount as he asked, "You an Aspie too?"

Sherlock nodded and helped the man stand and said, "Lestrade, can you have one of your lackeys escort Mr. Griffin to get a cup of water and get him a cab home?"  
Lestrade immediately nodded and called one of his men to do just that.

Once the suspect was out of the room, and John had entered, Donovan turned to Sherlock and asked,  
"What in the world is an _Aspie?"_

"Someone with a heightened awareness of the world, also known as someone with Asperger's Syndrome," Sherlock replied casually.

Donovan broke out into a sinister grin and said, "Oh, that explains a lot, doesn't it? No wonder you can never act normal," Donovan scoffed and looked over to Lestrade, thinking that he would somehow agree.

However, almost as soon as the words had left her mouth, she regretted them; if only because of the immediate looks of furry they created on Lestrade and John's faces.

"That is out of line, Sally. Apologize to Sherlock right now," Lestrade said as John burst out,  
"Who the hell cares about _normal?_ Sherlock Holmes is obviously not normal, but that's not a bad thing and it's not just because he has Asperger's. He has ten times the genius of all of London!"

Donovan shrunk into the wall.

With this, Sherlock took the chance to speak up, "People often see Asperger's, and the spectrum in general, in a negative light that it has done nothing to deserve. Just because we see the world differently, doesn't make us any less aware of other people's judgment. And I have no clue why having a unique mind could ever be considered a bad thing, who would ever strive to be _ordinary_?"

Sherlock then turned dramatically and left the room.

John shot Donovan a glare and scrambled to follow his best friend.

When only Lestrade was left, he turned to Donovan and said,  
"Next time you see him, you are going to apologize for what you just said. Also, tonight, you are going to look up the facts about Asperger's so you can stop being an ignorant git."

Lestrade left without another word, leaving Donovan to ponder what she had just said.

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That night, as instructed, Donovan looked up Asperger's Syndrome. She found a bunch of articles talking about how brilliant people with Asperger's can be and the unique gifts they can possess. The next time she saw Sherlock, she apologized and pulled up her suit sleeve just enough for Sherlock to see her rainbow bracelet with a puzzle piece on it.

Sherlock had given a small, pleasantly surprised smile and nodded before walking on.

Now Donovan never left the house without her Asperger's Awareness bracelet.

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**Thanks for reading and so sorry for being late! This week has been crazy with going out of town and then getting sick, chaos! ;) I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I just want to say that I don't mean to offend anyone by the terrible things Donovan said, I just thought it might be realistic to not have every character react in a positive manner, at least not at first. I also wanted to point out how Asperger's is only looked on in a negative light by those who don't understand the Syndrome. And thank you to all those who have sent such moving PM's about their own struggles with being accepted, I love that you find the story so moving. Please review if you have a second and hopefully I'll see you next Friday!**


	8. The Crime Scene

**WARNING: Mentions of suicide, bullying, and drug use. Read at your own caution.**

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Sherlock and John were at a crime scene, which would have been normal, if it wasn't for the victim being a child. Sherlock was always more argumentative when he had a case with a child; John knew it was his way of coping, however, today was worse than usual. Not only was the victim a child, but a prominent one. Sherlock and John had had to wade their way through a thick crowd of reporters and on-lookers as they tried to get past the police tape.

Lestrade met them at the front door of the townhouse where the body was found.

"Cassandra Miller, four-teen year old girl, found strangled on her bedroom floor last night. Last time seen alive was at the dinner table around six yesterday. Parents said she was acting distant, but thought she was just tired," Lestrade read off his clipboard as they moved up the stairs to the child's bedroom.

Inside the room, Sherlock ignored the small body in the middle of the floor and immediately started analyzing the bedroom.

John went to assess the body.  
"Time of death, roughly ten hours ago, definite strangulation marks on neck," John listed as he scanned the body.

"Check her arms," Sherlock said, making both John and Lestrade jump, as he had been silent since entering the room.

"Why?" John asked but complied all the same.

"Needle marks?" Sherlock asked, knowing the answer.

John's sigh was enough to confirm his suspicions.

"She overdosed, the marks around her neck are from her first attempt, but her body just shut off and she woke up again. Second try was a drug over dose, morphine by the empty bottle under her pillow," Sherlock said stoically as he handed the empty drug bottle to Lestrade.

"So, she committed suicide?" Lestrade asked gently.

"Yes. She was bullied because she was different, she was brilliant. People don't accept others who are _different._ They led her to this, they did this to her," Sherlock said furiously, shocking John and Lestrade by his emotional outburst.

John stood and gently took Sherlock's arm, "Sherlock? Are you okay?"

Sherlock simply shook off John's arm and left the room.

"What was that all about?" Lestrade asked in confusion after Sherlock had left the building.

"Kids always upset him, I don't think the drug over dose helped the situation," John sighed and went to go catch his best friend.

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John found Sherlock sitting on a bench a little ways away from the crime scene.

He saw that Sherlock's jaw was clenched, he was obviously very upset.

"Sherlock?" John asked gently as he sat down next to the detective.

Sherlock didn't make any notion to indicate that he had heard John so John continued,  
"Is it because of the drugs? Did it trigger something?"

Sherlock turned then to face John. John was surprised to see the glassy look in the detective's eyes; Sherlock was trying not to cry.

"No, well yes, it's always upsetting to see others use. It was why she did it. She was an Aspie too, that's why all those kids made fun of her. She had journal on her side table. The kids were terrible to her because she couldn't stop her stimming in public. All she would do was tap her fingers together and get good grades, nothing worth getting angry about, but they did anyway. Those kids bullied her into killing herself, all because she was different," Sherlock practically choked on the last word, covering his mouth with his hand to stop the sobs.

"Oh, Sherlock," John said gently as he wrapped his arms around his best friend.

They sat like that for a long time, Sherlock silently grieving and John helping him through it.

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It was two weeks later when John walked into the flat to find Sherlock talking to two clients. They were both middle aged and Sherlock was typing furiously as they talked.

"Sherlock? Have we got a case?" John asked, causing Sherlock to whip his head up.

"Case, no. Project, yes. These are Cassandra's parents," Sherlock replied.

"Oh, hello. I'm so sorry for your loss," John said immediately.

"Thank you," the woman, Cassandra's mother replied.

"So what's this project?" John asked Sherlock.

"We are organizing an Asperger's awareness campaign in Cassandra's honor at her old high school," Sherlock said in an offhand manner.

"That's, that's amazing Sherlock," John replied in awe at his friend's idea.

The next few hours were spent planning all the details. The campaign would go on for a week and end with Sherlock sharing about what Asperger's really was on an assembly that Friday.

John was amazed at Sherlock's plan and helped in any way possible, extremely proud of his best friend.

Sherlock could really change the world when he wanted to.

"This is amazing, you know," John said later that evening as Sherlock typed up a schedule on the laptop.

"Hm, oh yes it should go well. It's a pity that it seems like such an odd thing to inform the ignorant," Sherlock said thoughtfully.

"Yes, yes it is," John replied with a sad smile.

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**Thank you so much for reading. I know this week's story was darker than usual and I'm sorry if it upset you. I was having writer's block and then this happened, but I am actually pretty proud of this story. Yes, it is dark and sad, but it is also a terrible reality. So many teenagers kill themselves because of bullying and I can only imagine the bullying experienced by those who are born gifted. I might make the next chapter a part 2 and write about the campaign week and Sherlock at the assembly, let me know what you think. Thank you so much for all the support, you guys rock! Please review if you have a second.**

** Also, if you or anyone you know ever experiences depression or is thinking about suicide, please seek help. You are not alone, there are people who care, maybe you just haven't met them yet, but they are out there. You can also visit "yourlifeyourvoice . org" for 24/7 suicide hotline and free-chat counseling. Have a great week and stay strong, it gets better.**


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